Alternate Perspectives on a Split-Second of Violence
by Laura of Maychoria
Summary: Ficlets, drabbles, and missing scenes from "A Split-Second of Violence." Chapter 8: Kenma watches over Shouyou as he naps and ponders the awful things he's been through lately. It's not a comfortable experience.
1. Chapter 1

I keep having ideas for scenes that won't work with the main story, since it's being written entirely from Kageyama's perspective. This one is angsty but others will be just…so much fluff. Next one will probably be Tsukishima angrily fighting the urge to give Hinata a gift.

* * *

She held it in until much, much later. Shouyou was asleep. Granny had taken Natsu home. The hospital was quiet and dark and deep and still. Those sweet boys were long gone, leaving behind their good wishes, their gentle touches and heartfelt words. The nurse hadn't been by in a while. The doctors had changed shifts.

She bent over in the armchair, her stomach erupting in knots and coils of liquid fire. It rose inside her like smoke in a chimney, stinging, burning, aching, filling her throat with ashes and her eyes with tears. The first sob was quiet, escaping through frantic fingers pressed to her mouth. Then another slithered out, and another, until she was crying desperately, soft and low and choked. She didn't understand. She didn't understand.

"Shh, shh." He came, warm hands, the hands she had always loved, wrapping around her shoulders, trying to rub stillness into her shaking bones. "Don't cry, don't cry."

"I can't…stop," she said between sobs, doing everything she could to muffle them. Both hands pressed over her face now, trying to force it all back in again. It wouldn't go. It was too big, and it hurt too much. She had been stronger earlier, when her son was awake, when her children needed her. She couldn't be strong anymore.

"Shhhh. Shhh, now." He slid into the chair next to her, awkward—they were no longer teenagers, and his hip pressed painfully into her side, and she knew it had to be as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. But he wrapped himself around her and held her still, lending his strength, and she curled into his chest and tried to stop shaking.

"How could anyone do this?" she asked. "How could anyone do this to our little boy?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know. Please, you must stop crying."

Don't tell me what to do, she wanted to say. Don't you know that sometimes a mother must weep over her child?

But all that would come out was the same question again. "How could anyone do this?"

Shouyou, her sunflower child, her brilliant shining boy. Who would hurt him? Who would dare? Only someone who believed himself the master of this world, above all judgement, all shame. Only someone who cared for nothing, who knew nothing, who saw only darkness in his eyes. The light of her son must have hurt in that darkness, too bright, too piercing. Perhaps that was why the monster had felt a need to snuff it out.

"Shh," he kept saying, low and sweet and soothing. "It will be all right."

He would cry later, she knew. Alone, in the shower as water ran around him or in the kitchen over his tea. He had always been good at showing a face of only cheer to the world. It was one of the things she loved about him, that indomitable heart. He was strong when she could not be. Later, perhaps, she would be strong for him. But not right now. Not right now.

"How could anyone do this?"

He had no answer. After a time, perhaps a long time, they both quieted. They listened to the silence, to the soft breaths of their son sleeping in the hospital bed, steady and labored. It was the only kind of peace they could find right now, so they accepted it, and were still.


	2. Chapter 2

He blamed Yamaguchi for putting the idea in his head.

It had begun innocently enough. They went with the team to visit Hinata in the hospital. It was only proper. (And Tsukishima could admit, if only to himself, that it would be reassuring to see Hinata looking alive and well. The brief glance in on him the first night had done little to erase the images that had filled his mind since the attack.) It had not been an altogether satisfying visit, since Hinata persisted in falling asleep every few minutes, no matter what was going on. It was annoying as hell. Tsukishima didn't care how many times the upperclassman giggled when it happened. They could think it was cute all they wanted, but that didn't mean it was.

During one of Hinata's brief naps, Yamaguchi had nudged Tsukishima's side and pointed at the table by the hospital bed. "Aw, someone bought Hinata a teddy bear." Tsukishima recognized it from the gift shop downstairs, which Yachi and Shimizu had dragged them all through before they came up, in case anyone wanted to buy a card or a balloon for their injured teammate.

There had been a display of those bears, all in various colors with a heart on the stomach with "Get Well Soon!" inscribed inside. This one was black with an orange heart. Karasuno colors. Tsukishima was sure Hinata would like it, once he was awake long enough to notice it.

Hinata's mother was standing nearby, and she nodded sweetly when Yamaguchi pointed out the bear. "Isn't that a kind gift? A number of visitors have noticed it, and we've been getting a few other stuffed animals. I'll give them to Shouyou when he's awake enough to appreciate them. He might be a little old for plush toys, but I suppose people think they're more appropriate than flowers and more long-lasting than balloons, so if they want to give a little more, that's the way to go."

Yamaguchi grinned, appreciating the joke. "Wouldn't it be funny if he ended up with a pile of stuffed animals? What would he even do with them?"

Mrs. Hinata laughed. "Probably dump them all in his bed and sleep on them. That boy does like his cushions and pillows."

Yamaguchi giggled. He looked to Tsukishima, eyes sparkling. "We could pool our money and get him one. What do you think, Tsukki?"

Tsukishima shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. I bought a card. That's enough."

Yamaguchi shrugged and let the matter drop. But now Tsukishima couldn't stop thinking about it. It was such a stupid idea, but it wouldn't leave him alone.

He tapped his pencil on the homework page he was supposed to be working on, then stood up from the desk and stomped over to his closet. Again. For the fifth time. He opened the door and stared up at the top shelf. The head of his old Stego-chan peeked out at him over the edge of the shelf, fuzzy and olive-green.

Tsukishima slammed the door and went back to the desk. Sat down. Tapped his pencil on the paper.

Stego-chan had been a gift from Akiteru when he was five. It had been stuck in his closet for years now. But it still had sentimental value, like the dinosaur figures on the shelves above his desk. Even though he had forgotten all about it until Yamaguchi made that dumb comment about giving Hinata a stuffed animal.

Tsukishima sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the wall. On the top shelf above his desk were books he never looked at anymore, picture books from the same period in his life as Stego-chan. He used to pore over them constantly, but now he had better, more complete books, as well as the bounty of the internet and the educational assets of his well-stocked school. He didn't really need those, either, just like he didn't really need a stuffed dinosaur that had been gathering dust in his closet for years.

They weren't of any use to anyone, stuck in Tsukishima's room doing nothing. They were just detritus now, remnants of childish passions now matured into ordinary hobbies he could take or leave as he chose. They were just things. They didn't matter.

People mattered. What happened to Hinata mattered. Tsukishima could pretend that it wasn't a big deal, that he hadn't been troubled—sickened, in fact—by what had been done to his teammate. But he knew better, here in the oasis of his own room, surrounded by the possessions and hobbies that brought him peace and listening to quiet music that drowned out the roar of the world.

His mother had a saying. She said that the world was not always a place of goodness and righteousness, much as they wished it to be. Sometimes, evil people committed wicked acts and filled the world with darkness. When that happened, it was the duty of just people to do as many kind deeds as they could, to shine a light and drive out the darkness wherever they found it. It was a never-ending battle, and sometimes it seemed like that light could never win. And maybe it couldn't, but that didn't mean that the battle wasn't worth fighting.

Tsukishima put down his pencil and went to his closet. He pulled down Stego-chan and patted him over, looking for dust. There didn't seem to be any, unlike his morbid musings.

A step to the desk shelves, and he pulled down one of the old picture books, as well, the one about sharks. The Lucifer Dogfish was on page twenty-three—he remembered it clearly. Such a fascinating creature. It had always stuck in his mind. He tucked Stego-chan under his arm and flipped through the book, appreciating the pictures one last time.

He set the book on his desk and placed the stuffed stegosaurus on top, then went looking for wrapping paper. His mom was the kind to carefully open presents at the seams and tuck the paper away, and he had once been the same way, having picked the habit up from her. Nowadays that seemed stupid—What did wrapping paper cost? A few dozen yen? Why waste so much effort on it?—but he knew he still had some old paper somewhere.

There, in the bottom drawer of his dresser. It was light blue with multicolored balloons and confetti. Tsukishima touched it gently, almost stroking his fingers over it, trying to remember where it had come from. A birthday, probably, but which one? Perhaps Stego-chan himself had come to him wrapped in this paper.

He set the paper on the desk by the stegosaurus and the book, and then he sat in his chair and stared at them.

This was such a stupid idea. Damn that Yamaguchi for putting it in his head. Who cared if he gave Hinata a stuffed animal? No one. Not even the captain would expect something like this from him. And what would Hinata do with it if he gave it to him? Pile it in his bed with the other stuffed animals and sleep on top of them? That was the stupidest thing Tsukishima had ever heard.

(And poor Stego-chan, anyway, being slept on top of by the most hyperactive teenager in all of Japan. Tsukishima was willing to bet that Hinata was the type to kick all his covers off the bed and end up sleeping upside down by morning. What a cruel thing to do to a faithful old friend, to give him away to someone like that.)

But no. They were just things. Honestly, Tuskishima would be better off if he threw away most of the stuff he wasn't using. He held onto a lot of things that weren't doing him any good, mostly because it took less effort to let them stay than to pack them up and get rid of them.

Hinata was annoying and over-enthusiastic. He'd gotten on Tsukishima's nerves in a thousand ways from the moment they met. But Tsukishima wasn't so stupid that he couldn't see that Hinata was a good person, for all that. An evil person had done something terrible to him, spilling darkness all around like a pool of ink. It was the duty of the righteous to commit acts of kindness to battle that darkness, to push it back and banish it, even a little at a time.

Giving Hinata a stuffed animal and a book was a silly, stupid thing to do. But it was kind. Maybe Hinata would appreciate it. Maybe not. Either way, Tsukishima would have done his duty, and gotten rid of some stuff he didn't need in the process.

Tsukishima nodded firmly to himself, decision made. He stood up from the desk and went looking for cellophane tape.

It wasn't until the next day, when Yamaguchi saw the big, squishy present in his hands and immediately burst into laughter, that Tsukishima remembered that Hinata wasn't the only annoying person he would have to contend with on this stupid quest he'd set for himself. He sighed heavily, face heating up, but refused to back down. He was going to do something kind, dammit, even if it killed him.

"Shut up, Yamaguchi."

"Sorry, Tsukki."

Yamaguchi covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the rest of it, but he couldn't quite keep it in. Tsukishima narrowed his eyes and stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

He was already regretting this so, so

X

**AN:** So I've noticed that in the anime and the manga, Yamaguchi giggles a lot when he's around Tsukki. Not so much with other people, but with Tsukishima, all the time. Sometimes he's giggling at the mean things Tsukki says, but just as often it seems like he's just…laughing at Tsukki himself. I have a theory that this is because Yamaguchi has known Tsukki for so long that he can see through all of his shit. So when Tsukki starts throwing shade and acting like an asshole, all Yamaguchi can do is laugh at him, like, "Oh, you dork, I know who you really are. You're such a poser." And Tsukki tells him to shut up because he hates being called out, and Yamaguchi apologizes reflexively (ALWAYS with that little giggle in his voice), just because it makes his friend feel a little better about being such an enormous loser nerd baby.

I have at least one more missing scene that I absolutely must write (more Tanaka and Natsu, YES, must be done, their initial meeting must be explored), and I'll probably come up with more. If you have a question or missing scene or an alternate perspective you'd like to see, feel free to let me know—comment, review, ask on tumblr, whatever. It might spark something. I will continue to do my best to post a new chapter of the main story every Monday and Thursday (that schedule seems to be working pretty well for me so far).


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I will be writing more Natsu and Tanaka, but I had to get this out first.

* * *

Suga kept himself together until it was all over. Until the crisis had passed, until everyone had gotten to look in on Hinata and reassure themselves that he was alive, that he was safe, that he would heal. Takeda-sensei was taking some of the younger teammates home in his car, and Tanaka Saeko was doing the same for her brother and a few others. There weren't many of them left, milling around the hospital lobby a bit at a loss, looking at bus schedules or calling their parents.

When Suga disappeared from the group, Daichi noticed. He'd been waiting for this to happen, and he was pretty sure he knew where to go. Suga was the team's rock, steady and reliable, always a calm and reassuring presence. He wouldn't want anyone to see him any other way. No one really did, except Daichi, and even he had to keep a sharp eye out to catch it when it happened.

But today... Yeah, today was a day like that. There was no broken broom, no missing teammate, but it was a day of shattering all the same.

Daichi walked into the men's room and let the door shut behind him. It was the only private place close enough—Suga hadn't been gone for long. He walked quietly down the row of shiny metal stalls, keeping an eye on the gap beneath each door. "Suga? I know you're in here."

He heard a catching of breath, a squeak of a gym shoe on the tiled floor. The end of the row—the handicapped stall. The door was locked. Daichi laid his hand flat against it and bent down to look beneath the door. Suga was sitting on the floor in the corner, his feet pulled up tightly to his body. That was all Daichi could see, but it was enough.

He straightened and thumped his hand gently on the door. "Let me in, Suga."

"Don't be ridiculous," Suga said, trying to hide the strain in his voice. "This is the bathroom."

"You're not on the toilet. I know why you're here. You'd better not be blaming yourself for this, you idiot."

Suga released a short laugh, broken in the middle. "No. I think Tanaka and Kageyama have that covered."

Daichi paused. Maybe he didn't know what was troubling Suga, after all. He was used to his friend and co-leader overthinking things, taking on too much responsibility and then bearing the weight of failures that did not belong to him. Maybe this was something different.

"You're...not?" he asked cautiously, needing confirmation.

Suga's feet shifted restlessly on the hard floor. "No. Not...much."

Daichi sighed and rested his forehead against the cool door. It felt kind of nice. "Please come out and talk to me."

"Don't wanna." Suga's voice held a sullen note that might have been funny in different circumstances.

"I'm not going to go away. You might as well come out and talk to me face to face."

"There's nothing to talk about." Yet Suga's voice wavered, all the same. "I know it wasn't my fault, that it wasn't anyone's fault but the person who did this. I know how to deal with trauma like this—you _know_ I do, you know almost everything there is to know about me. I just...want to be alone."

Daichi leaned his head more heavily against the door, closing his eyes for moment. Yes, he knew Suga was equipped to deal with a day like today, but still... "I don't want you to do it alone, idiot. Is that so hard to understand? Come on. Unlock the door."

Knowing and doing were two different things. Yes, Suga had the theory. He had assisted others. It was kind of what Suga did: assisting others. But had he ever had to deal with something like this for himself? Daichi didn't know. He rather hoped not. And that meant that Suga shouldn't be alone, not until Daichi was sure.

After a moment of heavy silence, Daichi heard Suga drag himself to his feet. The lock on the door turned, and Daichi took a step back as the metal slab swung open. Suga stood there, still holding the door with one hand, looking at Daichi straight-on. His eyes were a little red, but Daichi didn't see any tears. His expression, though...

He looked as upset and unhappy as Daichi had ever seen him. Suga nearly always had a smile, even when he was in pain—it was his way of trying to comfort everyone around him, to lift them up and share their burdens. He had no smile now, not even a strained, uncomfortable one.

Well, at least he wasn't trying to hide his distress from Daichi. That was something.

Daichi snagged Suga's shoulder and dragged him out. "Come here." And he wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

Suga froze for an instant, but responded quickly, wrapping his arms around Daichi in return and ducking his face against his shoulder. He trembled, just a little, just once. Daichi pressed his cheek to his temple. "Okay. Talk to me."

Suga nodded, then disengaged and stepped back enough to get some space. Daichi let him go, but held onto his shoulders, unwilling to lose all contact. He watched Suga's face carefully.

"I just..." Suga's gaze shifted, down and away. "I just... I'm scared."

"Of what?" Daichi barely even blinked, he was watching him so closely.

Suga met his eyes, then glanced away again. "I don't want... I don't want to lose anyone on the team."

"You won't," Daichi said with great confidence. He was sure of this, because he was going to make it true.

"I don't mean Hinata. I mean... Yes, he's been badly hurt, and he'll need time to recover, but I know we can get through it. I mean... Kageyama. And Tanaka, a little, but mostly Kageyama."

Daichi's forehead wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

"He's been...so quiet. Since it happened." Suga rubbed a hand over his face. "I see it happening, and it... It reminds me of..."

Oh. Daichi swallowed, and squeezed his shoulders a little tighter. "Your friend in junior high."

Suga met his eyes frankly. "I don't want him to get lost in the darkness. He's so... He's so young. In many ways, I think he's even less mature than my friend was when that happened to her, and I don't know... I don't know if he'll be able to handle this, if he'll be able to keep from getting lost in it all. So I'm scared."

"And you're scared that you might not be able to stop it. To stop this from happening to another person you care about."

Suga held still for a moment, his chin wobbling, then nodded.

"Okay." Daichi pulled him for another hug, unable to stop himself. "Okay. First off, you're amazing, Sugawara Koushi. You will not let that happen."

Suga laughed into his shoulder, wet and broken, but more like himself. "So confident," he murmured.

"Confident in you," Daichi said, squeezing tight. "And second off, the rest of us are behind you. If you need me to smack some sense into Kageyama or sit on him so you can talk to him, just let me know."

Suga snorted. He might have left some snot on Daichi's shoulder. Daichi didn't care. "We could maybe try the gentle approach first."

Daichi was willing to accede to this point, at least for a while. "Sure. I know he's an idiot and it takes him some time to get things. But if it goes on too long, let me know and I'll step in."

"Okay."

Once again, Daichi held on until Suga broke the embrace first. This time Suga stepped back and immediately wiped his face, getting rid of any evidence. Daichi stood there quietly and let him do what he needed to do.

"We're going to be all right," Daichi told him, because he wanted to make sure he knew. "All of us."

Suga nodded, sure and strong. The rock of Karasuno, firm and steady once again. "I know. We'll make it be true."

"That's right."

And they walked back to the lobby to be with their team.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you sure this is all right?" Tanaka asked, nervously pulling his shoes off one at at time. "I know it's early, and I don't want to intrude..." He had called first, of course, he wasn't _completely_ without etiquette, and she had said it was fine, but still...

Mrs. Hinata waved a hand. "Of course, of course! We're glad to have you, Tanaka-kun. I was afraid Shouyou would be bored with nothing to do and only Nacchan and me to talk to, so I'm very glad you decided to visit. It's so kind of you to sacrifice your time like this."

Tanaka shrugged, embarrassed, as he slipped out of his jacket and hung it up. "It's no sacrifice, really. I'd be a little bored, too, without anything to do..."

He repressed a sigh. Ever since elementary school, it seemed, he'd been taken for a delinquent by all the authority figures in his life, or at least someone with the potential to be one. But he'd never actually been suspended before, nor even censured. It was all very new to him, and though (as Saeko had made it clear) it had been for a good cause, it was still humiliating to know that some people had a reason to think badly of him now, had justification and proof for the way they had always seen him.

But Mrs. Hinata patted his shoulder, her face radiating kindness, and tugged him further into the house. "Come, I'll show you to the main room. Make yourself at home, won't you? You are welcome here for as long as you'd like to stay."

Tanaka followed behind her, trying to walk quietly on the wooden floor and not thunder like a herd of elephants as he usually did. Hinata's house was really nice, all full of air and sunlight, but with enough nicks and scratches to show that it was lived-in and comfortable. His parents were wonderful people, too, and his little sister...

Tanaka froze. He saw a little mop of bright hair at the end of the hall, peeking out from a bedroom door to spy on him. The twin pigtails and chubby little cheeks (not to mention the much reduced height) told him that this was Natsu, not his teammate. He only saw her for a moment, though, before she spotted him looking back in return and ducked into the room, hidden away from his sight.

Mrs. Hinata walked on, seeming not to notice, and after a second for his brain to catch up, Tanaka hurried after her. Mrs. Hinata leaned in a large doorway, waving Tanaka to move up beside her. "Shouyou, you have a visitor!"

At Tanaka's entrance, Hinata looked up from where he sat on the sofa, apparently engrossed with something on his lap. A tired smile slowly spread across his face, but Tanaka's heart still ached at the weariness there, the big bruise on his forehead, the listless way he slumped against the cushions behind him.

"Good morning, Tanaka-senpai!" Still, his voice was as cheerful as ever. "It's good to see you!"

"Hey, Hinata." Tanaka moved over to the sofa to sit next to him. Mrs. Hinata gave them both a wave of farewell and disappeared down the hall. Tanaka squinted at the thing in Hinata's lap. "Whatcha got there?"

"Ah, Natsu gave me one of her coloring books." Hinata smoothed his palm over the black-and-white page. He held a crayon in one hand, and as Tanaka watched, he pushed it to the page again, rubbing back and forth in a most unenthusiastic way.

Tanaka tilted his head, not sure what he was looking at. "Oi, Hinata," he said slowly, not wanting to be insulting but feeling that this was something that needed to be pointed out, "I think you're coloring that dog pink."

Hinata nodded. "Yep. It's a pink dog."

Tanaka watched quietly for another minute or two. "Why?"

Hinata turned his head to look him in the eye. He managed a smile, but it reminded Tanaka a little too much of the queasy smile Hinata had given him on the bus that time. Right before he threw up all over Tanaka's jersey. "It's the crayon Natsu gave me."

"Okay." Tanaka came to a decision. "I think you might need a nap, little kouhai."

Hinata protested, but it was a very dull and desultory sort of protest. Tanaka gently tugged the coloring book and crayon out of his hands and set them on the floor, then nudged Hinata's shoulder until he toppled over into the pile of blankets and pillows already on the sofa.

"Don't waaaannnaaa," Hinata whined as Tanaka knelt next to him and started tugging on the blankets underneath him. He should have moved the blankets before he pushed Hinata over, he saw now. He'd never been great at thinking ahead. "I sleep too much. 'S embarrassing."

"You're injured," Tanaka said as reasonably as he could. "Of course you need a lot of sleep. Didn't the doctor tell you so?" He dragged out a corner of the blanket and pulled it over Hinata. Despite his words, Hinata had practically melted into the sofa, his entire body limp with exhaustion.

Hinata mumbled something. Tanaka almost felt his ear grow to catch the words. "What was that?"

"Yes." Hinata's voice was sullen, muffled in the bedding. "Kag'yama said so too."

"Kageyama's pretty smart. Sometimes it's a good idea to listen to him." Tanaka patted Hinata's back, now cushioned under several layers of fabric. "Hey, is this your stuffed stegosaurus? I'll make sure he stays close, right?"

He set the stegosaurus on the sofa arm above Hinata's head, watching over him, and patted it to make sure it would stay. Then he sat back on his heels, satisfied with a job well done. Hinata's dark-ringed eyes watched him from an opening in the pile of bedding that his small body had become, half-lidded but still awake. Tanaka gave him a smile.

"There, don't you feel cozy? You should have a nice long sleep, now."

Hinata blinked. His mouth opened, then closed again.

Tanaka raised his eyebrows. "What is it? Something else to say? Gonna tell me again that you're not tired? Cuz I know you are. I can smell lies."

Hinata shook his head slowly. A flush of pink spread over his cheeks. "Just wondering..."

"Yeah? You can ask me anything."

Hinata made a little noise and turned his head into the sofa. He mumbled something, but this time Tanaka couldn't hear it no matter how hard he tried.

"Wanna say that again?"

Hinata looked at him, his face now flame-bright. "...'R you gonna be here when I wake up?"

Tanaka's heart squeezed in his chest. That was right, Noya had told him... Hinata was scared. He did everything he could to hide it, but Tanaka was pretty sure all of the third-years and most of the second-years knew. Kageyama probably knew, too, and that was why he was staying over tonight. (Suga had been keeping everyone up to date on the changes in Hinata's schedule so they all knew when they should and shouldn't visit.)

Now, Tanaka swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. His voice came out in a rough murmur. "Yeah. I'll be here. I'll be here all day. I promise."

Until they kicked him out or Kageyama took over.

"Okay." Hinata's eyes slid shut immediately, as if that was all he had needed to know that he could rest.

Tanaka watched him for a moment, just appreciating the ability to _look_ at his kouhai, to be able to see his body move with his breath, his eyelashes fluttering on his cheek. Eventually that got to be too embarrassing, though, so he turned and sat on the floor with his back to the sofa, his hands resting on his knees.

"What now?" he muttered to himself. He planned to stay here and keep his promise, but he really wasn't great at sitting still. Was there something else he could to do to be helpful to Hinata and his family? He glanced at the coloring book and crayon on the floor beside him, then shook his head. That was for Hinata. And besides, he would need more than just one pink crayon.

"You should play with Natsu," Hinata said, his voice quiet but clear.

Tanaka started and looked over his shoulder at his face. Hinata's eyes were still closed and his body was still. "Waahh, I thought you were asleep."

"Almost." Hinata heaved a great yawn, his pink tongue showing for a moment, then settled even deeper down into the sofa. "Play with Natsu. She's been pestering me even though Mom told her to leave me alone. She doesn't get why I can't play with her since I'm home from school and everything."

"Eeh, that's an idea, I suppose." Tanaka looked forward again. "I'm not sure it will work, though."

"Mmmmwhy not?" Hinata's voice was getting sleepier and more slurred by the second.

Tanaka didn't speak for a moment, working up the words. Yet another thing that embarrassed him to talk about. "Uhhh, well, kids don't tend to like me very much."

"Why not?" Hinata almost sounded offended on his behalf, through the thick layer of sleep that muffled him. "You're such a great guy, why wouldn't they?"

Tanaka rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I'm...kinda scary-looking? One time I called out to this first-year girl who looked lost, just 'cause I wanted to help her, and she started crying. I felt really bad."

Hinata giggled muzzily into his blanket. "That's dumb. They're idiots for being scared of you. You're pretty much the nicest senpai ever."

Tanaka snorted. Hinata was so sweet sometimes. Why would anyone want to hurt him? He clenched his fist over his chest, fighting away the sudden grief that engulfed him. He'd already fought these feelings again and again, ever since Hinata had gotten hurt. They never seemed to vanish completely.

"You'd better not tell Noya that," he said eventually, forcing cheer. "He thinks _he's_ your favorite senpai."

"You're all my favorite," Hinata mumbled. He sounded closer to sleep than ever. Tanaka felt bad for keeping him up with his silly concerns. "Anyway, Natsu's easy. Just give her a piggyback ride and she'll be your friend forever."

"You really think so?"

"For sure. She acts shy and stuff, but she's really not. Once she decides you're a good playmate, she'll never leave you alone. Warning you now because once you're in, that's it. She'll use you as a jungle gym forever."

"I'm okay with that." Tanaka sat up straight, suddenly determined. "Okay, sleepy-chan, you go ahead and nap now. I've got everything covered."

"Kaaay."

Tanaka glanced over his shoulder to see his face again, but Hinata looked the same as before, utterly still, face completely blank. This time, though, it seemed like he was really asleep.

He started to turn his head back to face front again, then paused. A mop of bright hair had appeared in his peripheral vision. Natsu was peeking at him from the doorway.

Tanaka considered. Then he scooted sideways along the floor and picked up the coloring book and crayon. He held them up in front of his face and peered at them with narrowed eyes, as if he had never seen such arcane and mystical objects before in his life.

"Hah, I wonder what these things could be," he said loudly. He held the book sideways by one cover, letting it fall open, pages flapping in front of his face. "There appear to be strange images inside this thing. What could be the purpose of such a weird and uncanny artifact?"

He held up the pink crayon in his other hand, holding it far apart, and looked between it and the book several times, contorting his face into various expressions of fear, doubt, confusion, and idiocy. "Perhaps these things are meant to be used together? But how!"

He slowly brought the crayon toward the book and mashed it purposelessly against a random page. "It doesn't seem to be doing anything!" he cried in distress. "I'm such an idiot! I don't know how to make it work!"

That did the trick. A burst of childish giggles pealed through the air, and he heard the distinct thumps of a small body hitting on the floor in the hall, then moving around in a proxysm of joy. Tanaka had succeeded in making a little girl roll on the floor with laughter, instead of weep in fear at his voice.

Tanaka slowly climbed up to his knees and crawled toward the door, still holding the book and crayon, and peeked around the edge to where Natsu lay on the floor, kicking her heels against the wood. He widened his eyes as far as they would go. "Hello, mysterious child!" he cried in delight. "Can _you_ help explain these amazing objects to me?" He held out the book and crayon with an expression of extreme hopefulness.

Natsu leaped to her feet and grabbed them from his hands. "Yes! Silly nii-san! I'll show you! But we need more crayons!"

She raced off, and Tanaka sat back on his heels, grinning like the idiot he had pretended to be. He glanced at the sofa, hoping he hadn't woken Hinata with his foolery, but a soft snore assured him that all was well in that quarter.

Natsu returned with a box of crayons and several coloring books and flopped down on her stomach in the middle of the room, waving for Tanaka to join her. He lay down across from her, pointing and asking questions with wide eyes at everything she did. "Oh, you're supposed to put it flat on a hard surface? What a clever plan! I see, you are meant to press this colored stick against the paper with some strength? That works so much better that what I was doing! I am the most foolish of fools!"

Afterward, he offered her a piggyback ride. As Hinata had promised, that sealed the deal. He was "bald nii-san" forever, and he'd never been happier to accept a nickname in his life.


	5. Chapter 5

The latest message on the group email was from Yamaguchi. Suga smiled when he saw it, and smiled harder when he opened the email and read it. _Tsukishima and I will visit between four and five!_ That filled up Saturday, then, and the schedule was spread out enough to be supportive without being bothersome.

He started to type a reply, but paused when his phone began to ring. Suga leaned across his desk and snagged the phone from the pocket of his bookbag. His eyebrows rose when he saw the caller ID. It was Tanaka.

He blew out a small breath of relief as he accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. He'd been close to finally calling Daichi on his offer to sit on their kouhai if necessary to make him listen. They had both seen how badly Tanaka was doing, yesterday, and they'd just about had enough.

It was better that Tanaka had contacted Suga on his own, though. He didn't have to work at all to make his voice warm and cheerful in greeting. "Hello, Tanaka!"

"Hi, Suga-san." Tanaka's voice was a bit tentative, and there was a lot of noise behind him. It sounded like he was in a car with a window open and the radio playing. "We sure have some weird kouhai this year."

Suga grinned and rubbed a hand over his head. Not that he disagreed. At all. But this wasn't even close to what he'd been expecting for an opening statement. "Oh, yeah? Why do you say that?"

"Well, Kageyama just punched me in the arm and ordered me to call you. He also said a bunch of other weird things about wind and earthquakes and brains being allergic. I don't get it, Suga-san, I really don't."

Oh, now this was interesting. Suga stood and walked over to his window, looking out at the deep shades of the setting sun. "You saw Kageyama?"

"Yeah, at Hinata's house. I, uh, spent the day there. And Kageyama came over to spend the weekend. It's gonna be a busy place, I guess."

Suga hummed. He was very pleased to hear that Tanaka had taken it upon himself to visit Hinata. Hopefully the time had done him good—seeing Hinata resting and steadily getting better would surely soothe his heart. And Kageyama too! Suga couldn't stop smiling. With this news, he could let himself begin to believe that everything would be okay, eventually, that everyone would heal from this terrible experience.

"Any idea why Kageyama punched you?" he asked calmly, hiding all of this away. Tanaka was obviously still in some distress, and he had called for a reason. "I've never seen him strike a senpai before. He's usually much more polite."

"Eh, I guess I was saying things he didn't like. And he didn't believe me when I said I would call you after he told me to."

"Were you going to?"

Tanaka grunted. "Well, probably not."

Suga walked over to his bed and lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling. Kageyama had told Tanaka to call. So he had noticed that Tanaka was troubled, too, and had presumed that Suga would be able help. Kageyama was doing well enough to be able to look outside himself, notice another person hurting, and do his best to assist. These were all very good signs.

"Then I'm glad he punched you," Suga said. "You obviously needed to call me."

"So mean!" Tanaka muttered, but he didn't sound particularly upset. He sounded tired. And depressed. And a bit lost.

"Well, what can I do for you then?" Suga asked. It would be better if Tanaka could articulate his own troubles, even roughly.

"I don't know!" Tanaka's growl was a bit more spirited this time. "He just took my phone, found your contact, and told me to call you, then punched me when I didn't seem enthusiastic enough."

In the background, Tanaka's sister started loudly singing a pop song with the radio. Suga had to suppress a giggle. He didn't want Tanaka to think he was laughing at him.

"Can you at least tell me what you were talking about at the time that prompted this unusual behavior from our polite first-year setter?"

Tanaka was silent for a good long stretch. Suga let him stew, lying quietly on his bed and staring at the ceiling. He scratched his head, rubbed his nose, and did his best not to interrupt whatever thought process was going through Tanaka's head.

"I...apologized to Hinata," Tanaka said at last, so quietly that it was difficult to hear him through the background noise.

Suga blinked. "For what?"

"For...not stopping it."

Suga's heart gave a sudden pang. He rolled over on his side and stared at the wall, propping his head on his folded arm. It hurt to hear Tanaka's voice like this, so quiet and downhearted. It wasn't like him. No wonder Kageyama had been disturbed.

"And what made you think that you needed to apologize?" Suga asked, his voice abruptly stern. This needed to be dealt with immediately.

"I'm Hinata's senpai." Tanaka's voice strengthened. He believed in this very strongly. "It's my job to look out for him and protect him. I failed."

"Is it also your job to control the tides? To change the weather so that every day is clear and sunny? To capture every evil person in Japan and put them in jail? Or perhaps the world? Is that how far your influence reaches?"

"I...what?" The confusion was enough to keep Tanaka from lowering his voice again. He sounded riled up, almost energetic. It was a vast improvement. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"As wonderful as you are at being a senpai, Tanaka, you are not a god. You are not all-knowing and you are not all-powerful. How could you have possibly stopped that horrible thing? How could you have possibly seen it coming? No one had the power to stop it. No one. It happened, it's done, and now we must deal with it. That's all. Blaming yourself accomplishes nothing. It only hurts you and does no good for Hinata."

Tanaka was silent for a long moment. "Is this what Kageyama meant when he started talking about earthquakes and wind?"

Suga chuckled and relaxed into his mattress, the tension running out of his body. "Perhaps, though I'm not the one who taught him to think like that. Maybe he was talking to someone else who gave him some very good words of wisdom."

Tanaka grunted. "He did say that I should talk to Take-chan, too."

"That might be it. Our sensei is quite wise for someone so young."

Tanaka chuckled at that. "People might say the same about you."

"Maybe." The smile was coming back. Suga's heart felt much lighter than it had just fifteen minutes ago. Thank goodness Kageyama had made Tanaka call him.

"But what was that about brains being allergic? Do you understand that one?"

Suga laughed outright. He sat up and swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed, his free hand pressing down on the mattress beside him. "Yeah, that one might have come from me…"

They kept talking for the rest of Tanaka's car ride home, only stopping when Saeko's voice declared that they were home and it was Ryuu's turn to take out the trash. Then Tanaka ended the call, promising to call again if he needed to, and Suga believed him. It was with a light heart and sunny smile that he returned to the group email, only to find several more messages.

Tsukishima: _What, I never agreed to this. Don't drag me along._

Yamaguchi: _Would you rather go at a different time, then?_

Tsukishima: _I'd rather not go at all, thank you._

Yamaguchi: _I'm going between four and five. It's a long trip and I'd rather not make it alone._

Tsukishima: _Fine, I'll come with you._

Suga rolled his eyes, then finally finished typing the reply he had started earlier. He was glad that Tanaka, Kageyama, and Hinata were all on the mend from their various hurts. But Tanaka had been right: They had some really weird kouhai this year.


	6. Chapter 6

He shouldn't have come to school on a Saturday. They weren't having weekend practice for obvious reasons, so there was no need for him to come. But somehow his morning jog had taken him here anyway, and now Daichi just had to stand here and tell himself that he shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have to come to school on a Saturday. Now he was going to have to deal with this, and he didn't want to and he wasn't sure how and it was just... Damn it. It was too much.

They'd messed with the gym. _They'd messed with the gym._ It must have happened last night sometime, because everything was fine when the volleyball club finished practice yesterday around six in the afternoon. There had been other clubs and things going on when they left, so whoever had done this must have come in the middle of the night, like thieves, like criminals. That's what they were, criminals. The damned bastards had messed with their gym.

Daichi circled the building slowly, studying the damage. Plants were torn up, graffiti was everywhere and—oh, yeah—there were marks around the door to show that someone had tried to force it. The bastards had thrown rocks at the windows—he could see the little dings, though none of the glass had broken—and they'd even taken some sort of blunt object to the walls. It was ridiculous. It was stupid. It made no sense.

Worst were the words, though. Not only were they hostile and threatening and alarming as all get out, but the spelling was _atrocious._ Daichi had seen graffiti that looked like art, that looked like calligraphy, that looked like beauty spread across a once-ugly wall. This was not that. This was an attack, and it was awful, and it marred their gym, the place where they pursued the sport they loved and dreamed about being the best in Japan. Daichi wanted to tear his hair out, but all he did was stand there in his sweats, his fingernails biting into his palms, and tried to make his teeth unclench.

Eventually he calmed down enough to remember the phone in his pocket. His mom insisted that he take it with him everywhere, even on normal little exercise runs. She was a bit of a worrywart, and Daichi indulged her. He was glad now that he did. He needed to make a few calls.

First, the police. Daichi had never called the police before. It wasn't an emergency, so he called information first to get a non-emergency line, and then he had to convince the lady who picked up that he was serious, and then he had to explain it all, and it was exhausting and it was a pain and he hoped very much that he would never need to call the police again in his life. Then he called Takeda-sensei, who would know what to do about this and who needed to be contacted in the school. Then he called Suga.

"Suga, I need you to come to the school," he said bluntly as soon as his vice-captain picked up.

Suga was silent for perhaps a second. "You sound angry."

"That's because I am."

Suga was already moving on the other end, a rustling of cloth and a _swoosh_ of a door. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Just...just get here. I think I'm going to lose it if you don't."

"Don't do that!" Suga's voice was full of good humor, and that made Daichi calm down just a little more. "I'm on my way, I promise. Hold it together until I get there and we'll deal with whatever this is together, right?"

"Right."

Suga chuckled warmly and disconnected. Daichi lowered the phone and looked at it, grateful, once again, to have such a reliable co-leader. He was glad Suga hadn't insisted on an explanation or tried to guess what the problem was.

He didn't want to have to explain it again, not to Suga. Not to a teammate. Not to someone who was going to be just as shocked and wounded and angry as he was at this violation of their home away from home. It might have been selfish of him, but he didn't want to break this news to his friend. He'd rather that Suga find out when he arrived.

The police got there first, a single squad car with a pair of officers. One of them walked over to talk to Daichi while the other surveyed the damage. Daichi tried very hard to keep the scowl off his face while he talked to the man. Somehow he had expected more than this. Two or three cars, flashing lights and sirens, maybe a fire truck.

Or at least some show of _concern._ This police officer seemed bored, his voice slow and lazy as he asked a few perfunctory questions and made some random notes on a form. It took every ounce of restraint Daichi had to show the proper respect, to answer each question calmly and reasonably instead of grabbing the man by his head and forcing him to _look at the threats that had been made against his team._

"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" the police officer asked in a tone that told Daichi that he was expecting no response at all.

"Yes, I do," Daichi said fiercely. "I believe I know exactly who did it."

The officer's eyebrows rose. Maybe he finally had his attention.

Without waiting for further prompting, Daichi told him what was going on. How a third-year student had attacked one of his first-year teammates out of the blue, just grabbed him without warning and slammed him into a wall. How Hinata had been hospitalized for two days and wouldn't be back to school for a week, how cautious the doctors had been about the problems that could arise in the future. How Isao had shown no remorse, only laughed and sneered at their emotional responses to his horrible act. How the school had suspended him, and his friends had disliked the ruling.

"And there!" Daichi marched over toward the gym building, pointing, almost not caring if the officers were following him or listening to him anymore. He had to say this, had to half-yell about it, had to express somehow all of the feelings boiling inside him. "Look at that! Look under the window! _Next time will be worse._ What does that mean? Is that a death threat? Are they planning to _murder_ my kouhai?"

He was breathing hard, now, shaking all over. One of the police officers was trying to grab his attention, waving his hands in the air, his eyes wide. "Sawamura-kun. Sawamura-kun, you must calm down."

Daichi backed up abruptly, straightening where he stood. His hands fell to his sides, clenching into hard knots. He could feel the muscles in his arms bunching as he fought to get himself under control. Damn it, he just wanted to punch something.

_Take this seriously!_ he wanted to scream. _They hurt Hinata! They attacked our gym! This is a serious threat!_

Maybe he didn't have to, though. The two police officers were looking at the graffiti with some interest in their eyes, now. One of them was speaking into his radio, while the other one—the one with the form and pen—was standing near Daichi, patting the air between them as if he would find that consoling. "Sawamura-kun, are you calmer now? Perhaps you should step away and take a moment to gather yourself."

Daichi looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then nodded stiffly and turned away. He stalked to the edge of the parking lot and jammed his fists into his pockets, trying to control his breathing. His legs were trembling now, not with fear but with an almighty urge to _run,_ to _go somewhere,_ to _do something about this._

"Daichi, Daichi." It was Suga's voice, breathless, higher than usual. Daichi turned and saw Suga jogging toward him, his eyes wide and his hair in disarray. He'd had to pass by the gym to reach this part of the school campus—he must have seen what was going on.

"Suga." Daichi's shoulders relaxed and his hands slipped out of his pockets, open and loose. "Suga, I need you to help me sneak into the school office."

Suga's eyes narrowed. "Why?" The one-word response was drawn out in suspicion.

"I need to find Isao's address so I can go to his house and punch him. Several times. And then find out where his friends live so I can punch them, too."

Suga blinked at him a couple of times, then doubled over, laughing uproariously. "Daichi!" he wheezed out between bone-shattering guffaws. "Daichi! This is no time for joking!"

"I'm not joking," Daichi grumbled, rolling his eyes toward the heavens in a request for patience as Suga grabbed his arm to hold himself up.

"Don't make me laugh like this! This is a very serious time and we should be keeping our composure!" Suga was hanging off Daichi now, his knees buckling with the force of his hysterical laughter.

Daichi grunted and folded his arms over his chest, dragging Suga along, still clinging to his arm. He held himself in stillness while his vice-captain laughed himself out. He could feel the tension in his chest slowly uncoiling and bleeding away, as if Suga's mild freak-out was relieving them both.

"Suga…" he said eventually, when Suga had bubbled off into the hiccup-and-sigh stage. "Suga, are you done?"

"Yes, Daichi," Suga said as calmly as he could, though hysteria still lurked under his tone. "I'm done now."

"Perhaps, then, we should have a chat with the nice officers."

"That would be a good idea, I think, yes."

"Maybe you will be able to convince them to take this seriously. I don't think I was entirely successful in that pursuit."

Suga straightened up and faced Daichi, still holding his arm with one hand. "They seemed pretty serious when I arrived and asked them what had happened. Don't sell yourself short."

Daichi huffed out a breath. "It still might be a good idea for you to explain the situation, too. Adults always take you seriously."

"Of course, of course." Suga let go of his arm at last, patting the spot where he'd been holding on as if asking forgiveness of the flesh he had bruised with his grip. "Are you over your need to punch someone, now?"

Daichi thought about it. "Not entirely. I think I can hold off for a while, though."

Suga smiled. "That's probably the best we can ask for." He put his hand on Daichi's shoulder and nudged him toward the gym. "Let's go talk to the nice authority figures now. Oh, look! Take-chan is here! I'm sure he'll help, too. And then later we'll go visit Hinata and see how he's doing, and hopefully that will soothe away your need for punching."

Daichi nodded and let Suga lead the way. This day had been horrible so far, but maybe it was finally looking up.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** My first time writing kitty interaction! It was fun. Please note that Kenma calls Kuroo by a childhood nickname, Kuro. I didn't forget how to spell partway through.

* * *

"Good morning, Kenma-san!" It was Lev, of course. Cheerful, idiotic Lev. Kenma gave him a dull stare, then turned away as he dropped his bag on the floor of the club room.

Lev didn't notice that Kenma didn't want to be spoken to. Lev never noticed. He bounced over like a mop-headed blond giraffe, as usual, leaning over and half-crowding into Kenma's space as Kenma slowly got ready for morning practice. "Did you have a good weekend, Kenma-san? I did! I went to the playground with my little sister and we swung on the swings and I pushed her up really high and she kept wanting me to push her higher because she thought maybe if she went high enough she'd be able to grab a cloud and it would taste like candy floss like at the festival last month and I told her she was silly but I still pushed her as high as I could!"

Kenma blinked, staring down at his hands. One was holding his jersey and the other one had his uniform shirt. Which one was he in the middle of putting on? He couldn't remember.

"Oi, Kenma-san!" Lev leaned in closer, though he refrained from poking Kenma's forehead, as he might have in earlier days. Yaku had trained him out of that bad habit, at least. "Are you listening to me?"

"No." It was the same answer Kenma always gave to that question, but his voice was heavier than usual. He could feel it. He could feel the heaviness. There was a great weight in the middle of his body, below his lungs and above his stomach. It had made it very, very difficult to get up this morning, but he'd done it. He'd dragged himself out of bed and come to volleyball practice, and he was even on time. The others really shouldn't expect more out of him today.

He didn't expect Lev to notice the heaviness in his voice. Lev was happily oblivious to subtlety—it was the entirety of his personality. But Lev paused his sunny diatribe, hovering over Kenma in silence for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was unusually subdued. "Are you feeling all right, Kenma-san?"

"I'm fine." Kenma glanced up at him, then returned to his baffled contemplation of the shirts in his hands. "Please leave me alone."

Ah, the jersey. The jersey was the one he needed to put on. Kenma slipped it over his head and moved quietly out of the room. Lev followed him, also quietly for a change. Kenma saw no need to remark on it. Such a pleasant deviation from the norm should not be examined too closely, lest the noisy, obnoxious Lev should return.

Lev trotted at his side all the way into the gym. It was quite a trick, really, for such a long-limbed creature to trot and at the same time keep pace with the much smaller Kenma, who was trudging. Sometimes Lev could be a bit miraculous. Kenma contemplated the phenomenon for a moment, then decided it wasn't worth pursuing further and let the train of thought go.

"Kuroo-san!" Lev called once they emerged onto the shiny wooden floor of the gym. The sound of volleyballs striking the floor already echoed, Kai and Yamamoto warming up as others completed their stretches or jogged around the perimeter. Kuro was pushing a bin of volleyballs toward the net, and he paused and looked up at Lev's shout. "Kuroo-san, Kenma-san is sleepy today!"

Kenma was jolted out of his weariness enough to glare up at Lev. He just had to shout such an embarrassing revelation in front of the whole team, didn't he? Of course he did. This was Lev.

Kuro frowned, but no one else seemed to take notice. Lev jogged over to the captain while Kenma stood where he was a few meters into the gym, momentarily frozen. Kuro said something to Lev, who nodded and took over the bin. And Kuro moved toward Kenma, that long smooth stride of his, like a cat slinking along a fence. It was the way he moved when he was making plans in his head and trying to figure things out so he could change a situation to be in his or his team's favor. Kenma squinted at him, watching his approach. He didn't like it when Kuro moved like that while looking at him. It never bode well.

Kuro walked toward a corner of the gym, motioning for Kenma to follow him, and Kenma sighed and went. They might as well get it over with now, so they could get on with practice. Kuro wasn't going to let it go until he was satisfied.

"You know, I would usually ignore Lev when he thought he made some grand discovery," Kuro said once they were relatively alone. "But I think he was right to point this out to me. You look a lot more tired than usual. Did you stay up too late playing video games again?"

Kenma shook his head. He had stayed up too late, but not because of video games. He paused and blinked, then nodded. Well, it was true that he had been playing a game at the time, though it wasn't the reason for his sleeplessness.

Kuro folded his arms over his chest. "C'mon, you know you get sick when you don't get enough rest. You need to take care of yourself."

"I couldn't sleep. I played video games to keep myself occupied, that's all. Once I was tired enough to sleep, I did. It just took a while."

Kuro tilted his head, studying Kenma with a wrinkled forehead. "Why couldn't you sleep? Was something bothering you?"

Kenma nodded. Part of him wanted to tell Kuro everything, just blurt it out and get it away from his body, from that heavy place that was dragging him down. He couldn't seem to gather enough energy to overcome the inertia, though, to push the heavy weight strongly enough to make it move. It was too large, too overpowering, to settled in its place inside his gut.

"That's not like you." Kuro's voice had gone quiet. "You let most things roll off your mind like water over leaves. This must be something very heavy."

A lump rose in Kenma's throat. How did Kuro always see so clearly? Yes. It was heavy. So heavy that it weighed his mind and body down and forced him to use all his powers of distraction to push it away from his mind just for a little while, just for enough escape so that he could rest.

"Tell me," Kuro said, still quietly, but with an edge in his voice that was part captain's command, part childhood friend's request. Kenma had never been able to resist that tone. It was a good thing Kuro didn't use it that often, or Kenma would start to resent the manipulation.

Right now, though, it was good. It was the impetus he needed, that little bit of extra energy, a push to start the heavy stone moving away from him.

Still, Kenma angled his head down and to the side to look at a spot on the floor several paces away, unable to meet Kuro's eyes. "It's about Shouyou."

"Hinata Shouyou?" In the corner of his vision, Kuro straightened, his arms still folded across his chest. "You heard back from him, then?"

Kenma didn't remember telling Kuro that Shouyou hadn't been answering his texts. He wasn't surprised that he'd done it, though. It had been bothering him last week. Kuro eventually figured out everything that was bothering him, one way or another.

"I got a text," Kenma said. "But it wasn't from Shouyou. It was from Kageyama."

"The Karasuno setter?"

Kenma nodded. "He texted me from Shouyou's phone. He was staying overnight at Shouyou's house."

"Why?"

The stone was rolling now, heavy and grating, leaving tracks behind in a deep, ragged groove. But it was moving, it was going, the words were coming out one answer at time. Maybe he could say it now. Maybe he could tell Kuro.

"Shouyou… Someone hurt him. Someone at his school. Gave him a head injury. On purpose. A moderate concussion. He was in the hospital for two days, and then he couldn't use his phone. Kageyama was staying overnight to help out. I guess they must be friends."

Kuro was silent. Kenma looked into his face. He could see him thinking.

"I called the next morning. After Kageyama texted me. I talked to Shouyou. He sounded...mostly like himself. Mostly. But my talking became too much for him and Kageyama took over again."

Kuro met his eyes. "I understand why you couldn't sleep."

Kenma nodded. The heavy stone had rolled between them, leaving a gap in the middle of his body instead. He could hear the wind howling, feel the raw air cutting against the exposed nerves.

"They said Shouyou would be able to use his phone again soon," Kenma said. "But he hasn't texted me yet. I don't know how long it will be."

"I'm sure he'll contact you as soon as he can."

Kenma nodded. He stared at the floor.

Kuro touched his shoulder. "You want to see him."

Kenma's gaze flew to his face again. It wasn't surprise lighting him up inside. He'd already known that Kuro would be able to see what he wanted, even if Kenma said nothing. No, this bright illumination flowing through him was anticipation. Kuro would make it happen. Kenma didn't know how to make things like this happen, but somehow Kuro always did.

He didn't respond. Didn't even nod. But Kuro smiled his sideways, knowing smile at the look on Kenma's face. "Yeah, I thought so. We'll go next weekend. That will give your friend time to recover enough that our visit will be a pleasure instead of a burden."

Kenma closed his eyes in a slow blink and made an affirmative noise. It was all they needed. The wind was quieter. The gap was being patched.

Kuro's hand slid off his shoulder. He looked to the center of the gym, where the rest of the team was already doing drills. "The others will want to know. Inuoka. Lev. We're all fond of Hinata."

"I don't want to tell them." Kenma shrank a bit when he heard the words leave his mouth. He didn't mean that he didn't want them to know. They deserved to know what had happened to Shouyou. He just didn't think he could find the words. It had been hard enough with Kuro, and he communicated more easily with Kuro than anyone else in the world.

Kuro nodded easily. "I'll do it."

Oh, right. Kuro knew what he meant. He always did. The shriek of the wind fell silent, though curls of air still circulated within him, cool and uncomfortable.

Kuro started walking into the middle of the gym, then looked back expectantly, waiting for Kenma to follow. After a moment, Kenma did, his stride solidifying with each step, slow at first, then more and more smooth and controlled. He was still tired, his mind still buzzing, his limbs still weighted with fatigue. But he knew now that he would be able to sleep tonight. He would have no need to exhaust himself with video games before he could rest.

After practice, he checked his phone and found a series of texts from Shouyou, all excited ramblings about his weekend with many, many exclamation points, and the last little gap in his gut filled in with hope. He no longer heard or felt the wind at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Shouyou was asleep. His head was warm and heavy on Kenma's upper arm, and his unruly orange hair tickled his neck. Kenma glanced at him, then back to his screen. He was pretty sure there were a few more shells he could get on the beach in his Animal Crossing village, and he might as well hunt some bugs, too.

Shouyou's room was warm. The pile of blankets at Kenma's back were lumpy but comfortable. He didn't understand why Shouyou seemed to enjoy napping sprawled out over a dozen stuffed animals, though. Kenma blinked at the plush head peeking out from under Shouyou's body. Was that...a stegosaurus?

It didn't matter. Kenma wiggled his feet on the edge of the mattress, stretching out his calf muscles. He was comfortable, and so was Shouyou. Kuro and Kageyama were playing some board game in the next room over, close enough that Kenma could clearly hear Kageyama's groans of defeat and Kuro's gentle chuckles whenever something happened in the game. Sunlight shone in the window through the low-slung branches of a tree just outside, painting the floor and the bed with a pattern of intertwining shapes of crooked lines and leaves that shivered in an unfelt breeze.

Kenma was having trouble concentrating on his game. Not that Animal Crossing really required a great deal of concentration. But he was losing track of things, couldn't remember where he'd already gone and what he'd already done. He struggled on for a minute or two, then admitted defeat and let his head fall back on the blankets behind him, the hand holding his 3DS falling limp at his side.

Shouyou snuffled in his sleep, and Kenma let his head roll to the side so he could look at him. From this angle he couldn't see his face, just the ruffled mop of his head and the angle of his back, curled on the bed. As he watched, Shouyou made a noise in his sleep and curled up tighter, his knees pulling up to his stomach, his head pushing harder into Kenma's arm.

Was he having a nightmare? Kenma's forehead wrinkled. He'd a nightmare or two himself, even though he'd done his best to exhaust himself every night so he wouldn't remember his dreams. He shouldn't have asked Kageyama to tell him the details of what had happened, he knew that now—too late.

The words over the phone in Kageyama's rough voice had been blunt, unsoftened by careful word choice or a gentle tone. Kenma hadn't been there, he didn't know even what the guy who had hurt Hinata looked like. But he couldn't stop imagining it, some tall, strong teenager grabbing Hinata's head and...and hurting him. Just like that. Because...he could? Was that what people like him thought? Was that how they were? Kenma couldn't fathom it.

Something must have happened. Recently—yesterday or earlier today. Kenma had talked to Shouyou on the phone Thursday night, and he'd sounded almost like himself again, if a bit depressed at being forced to keep missing out on volleyball practices. Kenma knew he was still recovering, still needed rest and time to heal, but he'd let himself believe that the worst had passed. He'd thought that coming here today, seeing Shouyou with his own eyes, would just confirm that.

But the Shouyou who had met him at the station was...not quite right. He was cheerful and energetic and bubbling over with words and ideas and plans, just like always, but... It hadn't been right. Kenma had exchanged a glance with Kuro and had known that they both saw it. Something was off. And Kageyama-kun, the grumpy, stand-offish Karasuno setter, had watched Shouyou with brooding concern writ large on his face, too.

It was nice to learn that Shouyou and Kageyama were friends now, anyway. The sincere happiness in Shouyou's voice when he spoke about their new friendship was very heartening. Kenma was glad Shouyou had such a strong ally, both on and off the volleyball court. It made him feel much better about having to leave in just two days.

Kenma pushed the 3DS aside and reached into the pocket of his hoodie to retrieve his cell phone. He opened the text messages with a practiced flick and started a new one. _What did Kageyama tell you in the kitchen?_

He rested the phone on his lap and went back to staring at the top of Shouyou's head. After a moment, he heard the familiar ding of Kuro's cell phone in the next room. After a moment, Kuro called, "I'm right here, you know! You don't have to text me!"

Kenma frowned and tapped out another message. _Don't yell. Shouyou is sleeping. Just answer the question._

He looked at the fluffy head on his arm with some concern, but Shouyou didn't even twitch, still comfortably asleep. He might have curled up a little tighter, though. In the next room, Kuro's phone dinged, and Kuro grumbled, but didn't yell again. Kageyama said nothing, as he was much more well-mannered than Kuro had ever been.

Eventually, Kenma's phone made the noise he had set for his text alert ("Hey, listen!"), and he lifted the screen to his face to read Kuro's message. _The bastard who hurt Hinata has friends. They've been causing trouble. Yesterday they left a threatening note in Hinata's locker. It scared him badly. Kageyama is very worried, and he's not afraid to show it._

Kenma frowned even harder at this intelligence. He tapped out an acknowledgement, then put the phone back in his hoodie pocket. He tucked his hands in, too, as they suddenly felt clammy and cold. He let his head fall sideways so he could watch Shouyou's back, slowly moving up and down as he breathed. The sight was...soothing.

Kenma wasn't used to being angry. It breathed in his chest like fire, heating his face and igniting his brain. His throat felt dry and his stomach hurt. He just...didn't understand. Who would ever want to hurt Shouyou? It didn't make sense. It made the entire world feel darker and more dangerous, knowing that there were people out there who not only had hurt Shouyou in the past, but also were willing to do it again.

Kenma had been fortunate enough to avoid being bullied at school, his habit of sticking to the walls and making himself invisible serving him well in at least that one thing. Kuro had fought bullies a few times through the years, though, not for Kenma, but for himself and for a chubby classmate of his who hadn't been as successful as Kenma at disappearing into the crowd. The classmate had transferred soon after the last, worst incident, and Kenma didn't know where he was now. He wondered, suddenly, if he was okay, if he had gotten over the way he'd been treated, if he had friends at his new school.

Kenma spent a lot of time observing his peers, trying to anticipate their feelings and motivations so he could avoid negative attention. He thought he was pretty good at reading people, now, and he usually understand more or less why they acted the way they did. He still didn't understand bullies, though. Sometimes, to be sure, it was the outgrowth of stress or a bad environment, whether at home or at school. Those were understandable.

But some bullies were just... Some people were just born that way, and that was what Kenma didn't understand. It bothered him that he didn't understand it. Why did some people find pleasure in dominating and wounding others? It was so far removed from Kenma's experience of the world that he could barely even stand to think about it. It was too alien, too far away. It was easier to just stop thinking about such things, so that was what he did.

It had never made him angry before, though. He'd been frightened, unnerved, even disturbed by the existence of such cruelty. But he'd never been angered by it. He was annoyed by many things, creeped out by some, and frightened by a few. But this might have very well been the first time he felt true anger the way he'd heard it described in stories and the words of others, and it was a strange and disconcerting experience.

Being angry was...exhausting. Kenma didn't like the way it filled his head with bright, bursting colors, drowning out his normal perception of the world. His hands clenched into fists inside his pockets, and his legs twitched and trembled with a baseless, unfocused urge to move, to go somewhere, to do something. Never in his life had Kenma ever wanted to punch someone. He'd never done it. He didn't know how. But right now, if that bastard or any of his friends were in reach, Kenma would fly at them without hesitation, and damn the consequences.

How dare they. How dare they hurt Shouyou. How dare they threaten him and frighten him and drive away the cheer in his smile, the glow in his eyes. They had no right. No one had the right.

But Kenma's anger had nowhere to go, no outlet to express itself. He rolled his head back and stared up at the ceiling, blowing out a long breath that seemed born of fire. Slowly, slowly, the unfamiliar rage began to subside. His hands unclenched and his legs stopped trembling. Kenma was left limp and exhausted, feeling empty and little sad.

Shouyou slept on beside him, dead to the world. Kenma watched him for another moment, his mind almost empty in the wake of the emotions that had shaken him. Then he blinked, slow and considering, and made a decision. He shifted his arm so that Shouyou's head rolled off, just a few inches into a dip in the blanket pile, and then Kenma wiggled down and rearranged himself so he could look into Shouyou's face.

From here he could watch his expression and see that it was truly clear and smooth, no trace of nightmare or memory. Shouyou looked peaceful, the fear that marked his waking moments banished by the kindly hand of slumber. Kenma's eyes drooped as he felt himself being drawn in by the peace. Shouyou looked so comfortable and cozy. Kenma wouldn't mind a nap, either.

His head nodded forward, his eyes slipping shut, and he felt his forehead bump gently into Shouyou's hair. It was warm and soft. He could hear each of Shouyou's breaths, slow and smooth and quiet.

Kenma burrowed deeper into the pile of blankets and let himself drift away. They could deal with everything later. For now, let them enjoy a few moments of warmth and comfort. It wasn't too much to ask, of that Kenma was sure.

* * *

**A/N:** I headcanon Kenma as aromantic, because that's what I am and I identify with him very, very strongly. So, you are free to see this as shippy (as you are free to interpret anything I write anyway you like, of course), but that's not my intention here. I'm just channeling the weirdness I felt the first time I experienced true anger (a couple years ago) after a decade and a half of repressing my emotions just as hard as I could. It's a very disconcerting experience.


End file.
